


Quitting

by AstraKiseki



Category: Exalted
Genre: Abyssals, Clothing Damage, Cockblocked by the Sentence Limit, Explicit Language, Lunars, M/M, Solar Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstraKiseki/pseuds/AstraKiseki





	Quitting

It was cold in the long-past necropolis, filled with the eerie sort of emptiness that only the dead, and those eternally on its threshold could appreciate. It was overgrown and on a similar threshold, wizened trees thriving and spreading gnarled roots in defiance of the death here, even with the thousands of charred words written all over the grave markers and statues, complex symbols and numbers arranged in an alien pattern that seemed impossible to read, and the silence of the grave in the air. It was peaceful to the sole inhabitant of the cemetery, a man with a mask of ivory and steel, within a crypt, supine on a span of polished white stone, the only place in the small nook unmarked by the charcoal equations, the very calculations he had been writing for the last two months, twenty-nine days, eleven hours, and sixteen minutes, a sort of quiet that he hadn't had for years before leaving to sort his thoughts.   
  
Well, until a deep, rolling bass rang out amidst the ancient stones, uttering a single syllable as if it was a bell.  
  
"Arc?"   
  
At the voice, the Architect Veiled in Deceit catapulted himself up into a sitting position, his head turned and black eyes wide in disbelief in the direction of the sound. It couldn't be, the Daybreak hadn't told a single soul, living or spectral, about his departure from the Pale Faced Daughter of Bone and Iron's domain, _especially_ not-  
  
"Beyaz." There, he sighed out the name of the Lunar as he swung his legs out over the edge of the cold marble slab, shaking his head at himself as he padded across the cold stone. The deathknight had left his Mistress four months ago, begging sufferance of his absence as he sought out a greater understanding of his dark Essence, omitting the fact that he had needed time to think not simply on the cause he stood for as an Abyssal, but on the handsome, stalwart knight about to lighten the doorstep of the tomb with his presence.  
  
The Abyssal trudged his way to the cold, stone doorway with a resigned sigh, shutting his eyes to imagine for a moment. Instead of the idea of the Lunar's despair or agony, much to the Architect's embarrassment, the visage of the priest's solemn, tanned face, delicate, pale lines dotting out the illusion of a crocodile's scales, framing penetrating ghostly-pale green eyes, arose unbidden from his memories, even after several months of avoidance, drink, and feverish incantations to the Neverborn. Even with such measures, he could feel his cock jump, an afterimage of one of the damnably numerous occasions the Silver Sword's belt had 'slipped,' showing the rosy base of a rod, echoing across his thoughts, and...   
  
All the Abyssal could hear was relative silence. Oh, he could hear the rage of the dead howl, the sharp claws ready to rend his mind, but compared to the times he knew he had earned their wrath, and had been punished for it, making him stark terrified of ever even pondering Beyaz, this, this was miles, and miles away, the angry flailing of a monster that was barred by an even greater beast's power. That meant only one conclusion, one that was both joyous and dreadful.  
  
"I guess he was right." The Architect whispered with a sigh, self consciously running his fingers though his ragged hair, adjusting his clothes to hide the sudden upwelling of his arousal, a grin cracking across his face behind the white and silver mask he always wore. "Maybe there really are things They can't rot away."   
  
His eyes caught one of the more jagged sets of his bleaker equations, a conclusion that had been undone by a recollection of a Charm, frowning slightly before shaking his head again, pushing away the weeks of isolation and thought. Beyaz's presence, the thought of him, reminded the Architect just how long it had been, before the Lunar priest and he had met, wasn't it decades? The Abyssal could vaguely recall some sort of tumble in the library, fumbling hands and the pain enough for him to end up retreating back into the books again, pushing the memory and mess.  
  
And all he could think of now was trying again, with the damnable Lunar still calling out his name. He took a deep breath, ducking his head into his hand, and...  
  
"There you are!"  
  
The Architect looked up with a blink, the noonday air hot on his face as his eyes met with the familiar, peculiar celadon shade of Beyaz's eyes, and then the breeze almost chilled as he rushed forward silently, before the Lunar could react to his Mate suddenly unmasking himself. Even with the Daybreak's reflexes, the Lunar caught him easily, his eyes wide with surprise, jaw slack for a moment, about to speak, a Charm hanging in the split second the Full Moon held him, and stilled, frozen by the Architect's mouth on the priest's own. The Abyssal admitted inwardly that he felt like a fool in that hollow heartbeat, like a love-starved youth, but damn if the crocodile, even for his totem's cold blood, wasn't so _warm_ even as they stood in the shadow of one of the statues, the deathknight sliding his tongue into the wet heat of the surprised Lunar's agape mouth.  
  
He could hear the startled sound of the priest, a muffled syllable of whatever the Lunar had been about to say, before it dissolved into a joyous groan, something deep and resonant across the Abyssal's body as the Full Moon pinned him against cold stone and crushed himself against his Mate. The Architect let his hands pull the Lunar closer, seeking every way he could think of to press against his skin, attempting to make up for centuries upon centuries of lost time, not nearly enough fulfilled when Beyaz broke the kiss, his pale eyes almost glowing in the sunlight as he panted for breath, his slack jaw making his usual perfect mask utterly human, and with the exact same _needs_.  
  
Beyaz's fingers reached up, brushing across the deathknight's jawline quizzically, cupping his face and brushing his smooth thumbs across the pale, pale Exalt's skin as he spoke. "You know," He chuckled softly, "This is the first time I've seen you without that mask." He leaned forward to press his lips against the man's ear, nipping his earlobe like he always did, his muscular body against the Architect's simple, streamlined form as he added smugly, "No wonder that ashen bitch made you wear it, you look so ordinary, so _alive_ without it."   
  
The Daybreak grinned at the comment, angling his head to permit his Mate's lips and teeth to continue to toy with his ear as he answered back. "That was the gist of it, yes-sss." His words fell into a soft hiss as the Lunar's mouth slid downward, trailing a rapidly cooling line of wetness to his pulse as the Abyssal groaned half-desperately. "Just fuck me and get it over with, damn you."  
  
"Only once, Arc," The Lunar whispered mildly, sliding a hand down the Abyssal's shoulders, his chest, his stomach, idly tracing the pox scars from his mortal life, his fingers settling at a point just above his almost painfully-tented robes and the priest's composed expression a living mask as he added in a tone betraying a note of hope, "or more?"  
  
Something dark, angry made the Abyssal snarl reflexively, impatient as he gripped Beyaz's wrist and shoved it down onto his throbbing shaft, snaring the other and forcing the tanned hand behind him, against the cleft of his ass. "More before I rip it from your sacrosanct heart, dam-" The curse died on his lips as he heard a rip of cloth, the slice of fabric cut away as Beyaz rent his robe away, pulling him forward into revealing, burning sunshine, only stopping as a wall of stone resisted the priest's force, if only barely, if the cracking of stone meant anything.   
  
Even with the sudden flare of light, of heat blinding him for a moment, the Daybreak knew exactly where he was, and grabbed a fistful of his Mate's own robes to drag him into another kiss, hungrily as he felt his self-control dissolving under the almost, almost addicting taste of sweat-mingled sweetness. And still, the Lunar seemed to hold back, with more than enough strength to be able to yank the Architect away with a single hand.   
  
"Why now?" _There_ his voice was hoarse, shaking with desire and something... almost terrified, the light still too harsh for the Architect to see anything, painful enough against his back that the Abyssal let himself relax, slumping against the Steward with a sigh as he spoke.  
  
"Some things can not die, you kept saying that, and you are right, there are some things that aren't, such as what it looks like I've been ignoring." As blessed sight returned, he could see the dumbstruck expression on Beyaz's face, forcing the deathknight to moan softly, almost teasingly as his body shivered at the sudden flash of hunger in the damn crocodile's eyes, _finally_. "So instead," he gently pried the Lunar's fingers from his aching cock, "I'm going to pay perfect attention to you as you bend me over one of these Luna-be-damned grave markers and fuck me up my godsforsaken Unclean ass until something _bright_ comes out, and-" the Architect held up a finger accusingly, "If that takes you a hundred lifetimes, I _don't care_ , do it."  
  
"And so I will."


End file.
